Best Caledonia Poems
Sing tae me the auld sangs that ah learnt when a bairn,
Sitting at ma mithers knee hearin the lilting tunes,
Carrying me far awa in ma mind
Wurds o the land whaur ah live
An love aw the deys o ma life.
The auld sangs o Caledonia uv heroes ,fermers an unco ithers,
Auld yins wi tales tae tell o plooghmen wi ther hoarses
Running trecks in the fields
Ready fur seed hoping tae grow,
Berley,oats and wheat an aw.
O shepherds an ther dugs so clever an quick,
Chasing the yowes ower hill an glen,
Hardy people wummin an men,
Oot in a wethers hail,rain ur sna,
Lookin fur the yin that’s lost.
Auld sangs bring memories back pintin the wey tae gaw,
Daw we daur tae learn from them wisdom an aw,
Wi a sigh an a tear in oor een,
At the end o the year wi sentiment seen
Auld sangs agin lustily sung.
Andrew mcintyre 18 lanuary 2021.
There was a girl named Caledonia
Who would often state, I will phone ya
She met a man called Fred
Who did ring her instead
And she simply said, guess I owe ya
Author's Comments :
Fred knew his line was not dead so he called around to see what Miss Caledonia was
putting down...
A limerick is a five-line, often humorous and ribald poem with a strict meter. Lines 1,
2, and 5 of have seven to ten syllables (three metrical feet) and rhyme with one another.
Lines 3 and 4 have five to seven (two metrical feet) syllables and also rhyme with each
other. The rhyme scheme is usually "A-A-B-B-A".
Adell Foster
Copyright 2007 © Adell1
Searching for the Meaning of Life
A poem about the vanity of material things
inspired by Ancient Greek Wisdom
As I leave the walls of my home
Escaping the confines of my abode
I search for life’s meaning outside
On the banks of the Aegean sea-side
And as I travel across life’s vanity
Along the pathways of futility
Every element points to the sky
Guiding me to find your divine way
Finally, I find You, Oh! Supreme Lord
Not in the pieces of ancient Greek gold
Not in the deep gold mines of Macedonia
Not in the hills of ever-green Caledonia
Calling Your name is the sweetest word
Pacifying the turbulence in my world
Calming the wildest streams of my mind
Guiding my irate soul to quietly unwind
Always taking into deep consideration the following wise sayings:
1. By Sappho: ‘Wealth without virtue is a damaging companion’.
2. By Isocrates: ‘Wealth is the servant of bad things rather than good things’
3. By Menander: ‘Money loving is the mother of every bad thing’.
We wore our meri blouses
And on stilts built our houses…
We carried our bilums so beautiful
And custom dressings so very colourful.
We wore our island dresses
And displayed our art in richness…
We played our native string-band
And drew creative designs on sand.
We wore our dark sulus
And brown costumes not too loose…
We had high standards of fashion sense
And portrayed our crafts so immense.
We wore our shell necklaces
And a smile on our pretty faces…
We proudly exhibited our pan-piping
And were famous for our musical singing.
We wore our Caledonian dresses
And straw hats with leaves of freshness…
We spoke in our native francophone
And laid out our valuable money in stone.
So much vast diversity in culture
And numerous traditions needing nurture…
So much customs unique in many ways
Being revived and exposed these 14 days.
Though we were faced with many challenges
We have overcome for much further voyages…
PNG, Vanuatu, Fiji, Solomon & New Caledonia –
Still one and still celebrating the values and spirit of our Melanesia.
** In This Last Waltz **
I am swirling around thoughts,
Swirling even ‘tween ‘em , too — stepping forward —
Getting ready for this nght’s joys to end , and
See The Last Waltz come up on my dance card.
I’m twirling thru wonderings
— Biding my time hopping with the rocket man —
As my mind goes wandering,
Considering all the ways Time’s passing
Changes things —
I’ve been tapping along to the music’s beats
While “tripping through the light fantastic”
Off into only the finest of old memories.
I beg away the painful ones,
Keeping them in a far, secluded realm,
Which I look to name Forgotten —
And from where their attempts to recur will be for naught.
I’ve been gossiping with Caledonia
About which men will still be fit for the last dance.
We’ve been stomping to rythms of the blues —
Both of us wearing our alabaster shoes,
So fine for kicking up our gowns with some flare.
We’re running away from The Last Waltz as it ends..
Just minutes before midnight…
We’re sliding onto the taxi’s backseat,
Snagging our dresses, plus losing a shoe!
Nonetheless, we’re squeezed tightly together,
Shouting for the driver to race speedily off into the wind…
As we’re testifying that only good memories
Will be lived
To end our fun, illustrious, regal most fanciful night!
———————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger. 6/28/2023
** written to “The Last Waltz” concert music by The Band
With a mention of Elton John as the Rocket Man.
The prince, not notedwas, I think in another realm…;-)
Thanks be to God…
Geology, the science of the earth,
elucidates the intricacies of the creation
of the continents and the oceans,
explores the complex make-up
of the deep interior and the lofty mountains,
deciphers from the fossils,
the evolutionary trends of life.
All these aspects are imprinted
in the contents of the rocks,
enunciating the 4.5 billion year history of the earth.
As a professional geologist,
my expertise lies in the study of rock structures,
that ascertain the deformation pattern,
consequential to the interplay of tectonic forces,
forming the mountain chains,
Like the old Caledonia and the young Himalaya,
and creating earthquake-causing faults,
like in the Saint Andreas and in the Anatolia.
A piece of rock is not just
a chunk of ordinary stone to me,
it enumerates the fascinating anecdote
of the eventful eons of the earth,
and unfolds the mysteries of the blue planet.
______________
March 30, 2023
Skyline of rowed houses
Rolls past and
So do the greys of labour,
Conservative and otherwise
Are boarded on the decks of
Oil tankers; hollow
Hulking HMS something
Sleeps in the docks
Of the town once red
Now muddy brown
And sick,
Labour wise and
Reading Caledonia.
Aberdeen 2012 on route to Shetland
(This is what the Lisa Marr song "In California" would have sounded like if she was
brought up in Scotland)
In Caledonia, I'm dealing blow
In all the places we used to go
Just a phone call away
I'll send drugs on the way
It's my career now
Waking to the sound of police alarms
I remember your face when a grass dropped me in it
Said you were finished with me, your heart wasn't in it
Then you walked right away
Now there's nothing to say
As my life slips by, disconnected
In the land where the sun never shines
Living alone, junkies are laughing at me
Just a fool peddling misery
For people who shiver endlessly
Another overdose in the high rise
The Grim Reaper he smiles and smiles
In the same old town he's bled dry
One more junkie one more time
Always someone left to die
Take a walk on up the brae
Try to wash the pain away
They tell me Scotland's beautiful in its pain
Sing
not of man,
but bear and salt,
legend and deep voyage,
ancestral water,
frost and voice.
Hail Caledonia!
and you,
in Scotia style
reveal words
in smoke and wood,
that breathed
the same air as me.
whisper
for the return glance
proclaims
its prayer
of time
without consequence.
A land where chilly hills wallow over their boundaries,
Creating an essence of warmth and amity.
A land with toothsome pies and and leaf encrusted foundries.
Resembling the image of a foreign filled fantasy.
A land full of happiness and love
For all who come
With shining crossed heavens above
Till the day is done.
An island with such admiration and lure,
Must have had a similar past
But What if I told you, that the historic stories are so very poor,
That for many years, a clouded gloom was forever cast.
Hills as bare as a bony shattered back
Fragments of ebullient mud and moist
Still Beaten by dear talents they lack
Yet their opinions are forever voiced.
We trotted the damp and dirty shores
With English shackles on our hearts.
Despair and whiskey pervading our pores.
Division and woe, but never truly apart.
Decades later and through the brim,
We see a chance we cannot deny.
"Take to the polls", but the outcome still seems grim,
The stakes and divisions have never been so high.
"You won't survive, you're weak, you can't"
"I am strong enough I can!" -
- I shan't!
The Scottish people have spoken
Screams, and shouts from old Big Ben,
"Scotland dearest, we still own ya!"
May she not make the same mistake again
For we must all protect and cherish our Caledonia
Gallant Scotland's Fame
From Atlantic to North Sea
Ours is land again
With Europe’s largest oil reserves,
Our country again free.
All for Scotland’s freedom stand
Marching in national kilts,
Bagpipers are playing new hymn –
Saluting the country’s rebirth.
Caledonia – Scotland my country
With blue flag as skies above us,
White cross as innocence of Christ,
Independent, faithful and free.
Caledonia her laund is oor laund,
Caledonia her laund is ma laund
A laund wherr ithers ur walcome,
As we haud oot oor hand
In friendship an tak ye aw in,
As brithers fur aw that.
Caledonia we hailse you foriver,
Caledonia the braw kintre,
Whaur fowk ur aye at hame,
Wherr ithers feel richt at hame,
Whaur affront is ne.er oor aim,
An deceit fur laund wi lea alane.
Caledonia yer nae wanes slave,
Caledonia ne,er unner Sassenach fit,
A laund fu o kemps aplenty,
Free tae skail guid rid bluid,
We urny hinder tae scowth-and -roth
An will fecht tae uphaud oor richts.
A kintre o men free wi lealtie tae,
Auld alba caws tae us frae whiles bygane,
Wi sangs an ports fae the pipes ,
Filling the hairt wi pride an courage,
An we will fechttae protect oor ain,
An free auld alba frae colonial pain.
Yeah, you're not Europe
but there's enchantment
in your bricks
so poetically stacked
into sundry shops, bustling bars
and sidewalk cafes
even your courthouse
and church
approach the grandeur
of those across the pond
A nomad I roam
for months
sometimes years
but always come back
to haunt your streets
and stairways
I don't have a Caledonia
I don't love you
or hold you when I'm gone
but I feel you calling
just the same
and feel your embrace
when I return
my favorite port
we'll have some fun
but even as I sit here
on my favorite bench
(in your loving arms)
and adore my favorite bricks
my mind's on distant shores
planning my next escape
I'll write a poem in this cafe
and caress your curvy sidewalks
and stairways with steps of gratitude
I'm here
I have you
what a lucky man
Geology, the science of the earth,
elucidates the intricacies of
creation of continents and opening of oceans,
explores the complex framework
of the multilayered deep interior,
and unravels the enigmatic structure
of the mighty mountains,
deciphers from the fossils,
the evolutionary trends of life.
The arcane aspects of earth’s ancient architecture,
imprinted in the petrified rock strata,
enunciate the 4.5 billion year history of the planet.
My expertise as a geologist
lies in the study of rock structures,
that ascertain the deformation pattern,
consequential to the interplay of tectonic forces,
drifting the evolving continents,
forming the changing montage of mountain chains,
like the old Caledonia and the young Himalaya,
and creating earthquake-causing seismic faults,
like in the Saint Andreas and in the Anatolia.
A piece of rock is not just
a chunk of ordinary stale stone to me,
the lattice of the entwined minerals
enumerates the lyrical anecdote
of the eventful eons of the earth,
motivates me with poetic passion,
as I unfold the mysteries of the blue planet.
didn't intend to
be in another Irish pub
but it's raining
and they're so much better
in the land of saints and scholars
where
musicians don't play for
tourists
John a school teacher
brought the fiddle that
he learned to play at
his mom's set dances
(Set dancing lessons--Mondays 7pm)
Sarah, the pretty lass
the other side of me
brought her mom
Mom's sipping Jameson because
it's the best she declares
absolutely, I concur
and clink my glass (of Powers)
with hers
sláinte
Sarah's drinking ginger beer
made right here at the Cobblestone
I bought you one she informs
you have to try it
bartender lines it up
with the two in front of me
sláinte
Sarah doesn't lie
feeling toasty
the burly man
with the gravelly voice
playing those raucous pub songs
lays down his guitar and yells
who's next
John makes his way
with Sarah and her mom following
someone points to me
you're with the ladies
come on
and they sit me down
in musicians corner
to hear an Irish girl sing a Scottish song
And I know what I will do tomorrow
When the hands are shaken and the kisses flow
Then I will disappear
hauntingly beautiful
a fiddle, a sweet soprano
and Irish eyes
Oh, but let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia you're calling me
And now I'm going home
oh,
home